I laugh at myself while sitting on the cold snow. My sister laughs behind me. The stupid binder throws me off balance as I try to stand up and I fall again. I continue to laugh. My sister pushes from behind when I try to stand again but the book in my other hand doesn’t allow for me to gain an equal balance and I fall again.

“Get up!” Victoria whines behind me. I roll my eyes and throw the poor book onto the snow. Using my now free hand, I push myself into a crouched position and from there all the way up. I grab the book from the snow and shove it into my sister’s hand.

“Hold this.” I mutter before wiping my pants off and finally crossing the street. My sister continues to chuckle behind me until we get to our father’s truck.

We stand to the side as he drives forward to give us room to get in. “Did you seriously fall again?” He roars in laughter when we enter the truck.

    “No?” I question.

    “The lady in the other car was laughing as well.” My sister comments. I feel my cheeks burst with color.

    “Who wouldn’t laugh?” Our father comments. “She fell and couldn’t get up!”

    “I could!” I argue.

    “No, you couldn’t.” My sister pipes in. I roll my eyes and glance out the window, watching the scenery go by. Snow, snow, and more snow. How do they not expect to fall? My sister was pushing me from behind, I was unbalanced on both sides and my stupid boots lost all the friction they once had.

    “Take your sister’s stuff and go inside.” My father orders me when we pull up into our driveway. “Victoria’s going to help me shovel the snow.”

    Without another word, I hop out of the car and my sister does as well. “Here.” She hands me her stuff and goes to grab a shovel while I try to balance her binder, my binder and my book while trying to reach my keyes. When I finally get ahold of them I begin to walk towards the front door.

    “I’m home!” I shout when I enter my home.

    “Shut up!” My little sister yells back. “No one cares nor asked!”

    I roll my eyes. Denise gets on my nerves all the damn time. “No asked you if you cared!”

    Making sure no snow drips onto the floor from my boots, I put them on the mat and drop my sister’s binder onto the couch. I feel my phone vibrate from my back pocket but I ignore it. Using my free hand, I wipe as much snow as I can from my poor, dripping book. All that fighting I did against my English teacher to get the newer version only to let it fall into the snow. Sorry Ms. Sonya.

    “Where are your shoes?” My mother scolds me when she comes into the living room and sees me with only my socks on.

    Holding in an exasperated sigh I get up and gather my stuff before walking to my room. I make sure to hang my jacket on the hangers and put my hat and gloves in the bin my mother made sure to provide both my sister and I.

    “What can I help you with?” I ask my mother when I enter the kitchen now changed out of my uniform and with my gray slippers on.

    “Go do your homework.”

    I don’t argue with her. My paper is due tomorrow and I don’t feel like failing Geography anytime soon.

-----

    “Amelia!” Denise whines. “Give us the remote!”

    “No!” I yell back. “I’m doing my homework. Go find something better to do!”

    She doesn’t say anything but makes sure to give me the nastiest glare she can before leaving. I don’t care what she thinks, I hate her.

    “Come eat!” My mother yells at us from upstairs. I finish typing the sentence I was working on before going upstairs.

    “Is the table set?” My father questions from his post at the head of the table. I glance around. Tortillas, napkins, salsa, onions, cilantro, utensils. I don’t see anything missing.

    “Don’t forget your water!” Victoria says as she perfectly sits herself at the other end of the table opposite of my father.

    “Already on it.” I answer back before going to stand behind Denise in the line for water.

    “Fatty,” My brother mutters as he shoves by me on his way back to the table.

    “Idiot.” I answer back.

    “Hey!” My mother scolds both of us. “Control yourselves!”

    I hold in a retort and stay silent for the rest of the time it takes for Denise to finish filling her cup.

    Dinner consists of tacos de chorizo. “Can you pass the onions?” I question over the chatter. No one replies or even pays attention to me. I swear the only time my parents acknowledge me as the oldest is when they’re complaining to me for not doing something correctly. I sigh and stretch my arm.

    “Say excuse me Amelia.” My father says as my arm accidently looms over his plate.

    “Sorry,” I mutter. My father is a man of strength, dominance and power. His height might not be that compared to other men, but his strength is not something to forget. Something I am not to forget.    

    “So, Amelia fell today.” Victoria interrupts whatever it was they were talking about.

    “Again?” My mother questions sounding tired. A recent concussion causes her to shut us up more often and also makes her irritated easily. She looks pale under the lighting of the kitchen but I know me questioning it will only cause her to scold me to not question things I shouldn’t be.

    “Yup! And she couldn’t get back up.” My father cuts in. “She was too fat to do so.”

    “No I wasn’t!” I interrupt. Again, no one pays me any attention.

    “Of course she was.” Denise enters the conversation. “Have you seen her? She has a big butt and is ugly and fat!”

            ‘I would rather be thick that flat.’ I wanna retort.

    “Think about how she will look for her Confirmation! In that white dress she will look like a burrito!” My father exclaims.

    “And for her recognition ceremony as well!” My mother adds.

    They continue to talk about me and my physical appearance, as though I’m not even here, sitting with them at the table, eating the same food, and listening to everything they’re saying.

    “Mija,” My father says. “We are telling you this for your own good. Not to make you feel bad or anything. When you get older it will be harder for you to shed the pounds you want to.”

    ‘But it is making me feel bad!’ I want to shout. “I know.” I say instead.

    “How many tacos have you had?” He asks me.

    Cuatro, solo cuatro. “Four.”

    “Liar!” Denise shouts. “She’s had like ten! I saw!”

    “Is that true Amelia?” My father asks me.

    “No! I’ve only had four!” Arguing is in vain, they’ll end up believing Denise over me - they always do.

    “Tell the truth.” My father commands.

    “I am!” I cry out. I feel trapped. I’m sandwiched between the wall and table.

    “Denise?” My mother asks her.

    “I saw Mami! She ate ten tacos! I counted.” She lies straight through her teeth.

    “The only one who eats dies tacos de chorizo is Miguel.” I retort.

    “Leave me out of this!” My brother interferes at the mention of his name. We all know it’s true, but you never hear them telling him anything.

    “Leave the table until you are ready to tell the truth.” My father commands. My mother stays silent just staring at her plate. She never argues because she knows the outcome for her will be worse. It always is when she does intervene.

    ‘Fucking hell,’ I want say. ‘Why me?’

Silently I get up and leave for my room. Behind me I can hear them going back to a normal dinner like nothing never happened - like I wasn’t just sitting there, eating with them too. There are times when I imagine what it would be like if I wasn’t here, if I ran away. I never do because I’m driven by logic. Firstly I need money, secondly it’s the middle of winter, thirdly, where would I even go?

My phone is laying on my bed where I left it before sitting down for dinner. I check for new notifications but find nothing. “Ha, ha.” I hear someone mock.

I look up and find Denise standing in my doorway. “You got in trouuuuble!” She sings. She’s only eight but she’s the fucking devil.

“And who’s fault was that?” I mutter. “Because it wasn’t mine.”

    “It was yours for being fat.” She says before laughing and walking into the bathroom. I flick her the middle finger from behind. Unwillingly, tears fill my eyes. Why me? Why is it always me?

    Taking out the still damp book, I turn to the page I was on and start reading. It doesn’t take long before I get summoned. “Padre says he wants to talk to you.” Victoria says from the doorway to our room. I internally groan before walking back to the kitchen. My mother is washing the dishes and my father sits at the end of the table where he was when I left. The only difference is now the table is clean and empty. I feel my stomach roll at the thought of going to bed only half full. Maybe that’s how it’s supposed to be.

    “Sit.” My father points to the chair where my mother usually sits. I don’t say a word. “Who was telling the truth today?” He viciously spits out.

    ‘Why bother?’ I want to say. ‘It’s not like you’ll believe me either way.’

    “Me.” I still have to try.

    “Don’t lie to me niña. I know you, don’t think I don’t. You need to stop eating as much as you or you’ll end up like your Tia Rosa.” Tia Rosa died from heartburn.

    “I know.” I mutter. He says the same thing every time.

    “Get out of my sight.” I don’t hesitate before booking it back to my room. The first tears begin to fall before I can make it back.

    ‘We are telling this for your own good.’ I get reminded of this every fucking day but it doesn’t make it any better. Wiping my eyes I turn to my book. Ms. Sonya will probably kill me for returning her new book all wet.

    My phone vibrates again. I turn it on to find a new message from ‘Prima’. I grin and click on the Pinterest link she sent me.

    “You’re never too old for disney.” The quote says, completed with a picture of Stitch in the background.

‘No one ever is.’ I type back to her.

‘Age is just an illusion,’ She types back. ‘It doesn’t represent shit. What does matter is what you’ve done during the time you’ve been alive. Also how many new pieces of food you’ve tasted.’

I burst out laughing at the last sentence. Only a best friend can bring anyone out of their flunk. ‘Yo, did you do the math homework?’ She asks me.

Rolling my eyes, I open my binder and take out the green one-sided sheet that’s my Math homework. I take a picture of it and send it to Andy’s lazy ass.

‘Thank you!’ And she goes offline.

    I sigh and lay on my bed just staring at the roof. It’s hard being the oldest child. No one ever pays you any attention and if they do, they usually only scold you.

    A laugh from my doorway has me sitting up. “Fatty! Fatty!” Denise roars in laughter. I roll my eyes. I hate her.

    “Shut up Denise!” Victoria yells at her and shoves her out of our doorway. Denise sticks her tongue out at me and skips away to her room. It doesn’t take long before Miguel is yelling at her as well.    

    I sigh and lay back down. I hate being the oldest child.

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